


Stem Cells: Prologue

by sinamour



Series: Stem Cells [1]
Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-24
Updated: 2015-04-24
Packaged: 2018-03-25 12:25:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3810319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinamour/pseuds/sinamour
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A story about cloning – if only Kuroko weren’t part of him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stem Cells: Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Rarepair Battle 2015.

Chihiro doesn’t believe that he’s all that extraordinary at all. He’s taller than some of the average guys, yes, but not as tall as Atsushi; he’s easy on the eyes, but not as good-looking as Ryouta; he’s smart, but not as sharp as Seijuurou. If anything, the only trait that stands him out is his lack of presence – and that isn’t really something that he was particularly proud of. It’s not spectacular or noble or a sought-after set of skills –

So he really doesn’t understand why, of all the people that they could have chosen from, they chose him.

Why waste expensive technology on him when they could have went for something more symbolic and sensational.

Why select the one who cares the least.

-

But perhaps he isn’t being entirely truthful, Chihiro thinks.

Perhaps he really does care, because he doesn’t decline or object or fuss when they approach him and tell him that the Director had instructed him to donate himself to the experiment. He endures injection after injection, lets them extract red and white and green fluids from himself – barely even minds about the cuts that they make on his body whenever they feel like it.

(He recalls the time when he gave away his family cat because he couldn’t be bothered to even pet it – and the time he walks away from the child who fell on the pavement because it’s none of his business – and the time he steps away from an experiment that required him to donate his blood because he couldn’t care less about it – and the time he –)

More than anything, though, his reservation comes from the solitary little beats that knock against his ribcage in rapid staccato, thumping – _thumping, thump thump_

And there is a curious warmth that spreads from the back of his eyes to the tip of his fingers when he finally sees the ugly mass of gray in the tube, a secret throb that drums to the rhythm of Chihiro’s own heart.

-

“You sure are fascinated with that thing, aren’t you? I thought you said you didn’t care?”

Shintarou is one of the more focused researchers whom Chihiro doesn’t mind partnering up with, and he tends to mind his own business most of the time. His question isn’t unexpected, though. Even Chihiro had caught and reprimanded himself spending more than enough time in front of the tube, staring – staring – _staring_ ; and that’s bad form for a scientist.

(Rule #44: Researchers should not get attached to their experiments.)

“Yes, well. It’s an extension of me, isn’t it? I’d want to see what happens to it. Kinda like the time when you accidentally cut off that small bit of your finger, y’kno –”

“OKAY, point taken, narcissistic fool,” Midorima growls back. He hates being reminded of his folly, and Chihiro is shameless about taking advantage of it whenever it’s to his benefit.

“Yeah, just wanted to make sure we’re on the same page, y’know?” Chihiro grins, ignoring his partner’s peeved glare, and then sniffs and rubs his palms against the side of his jeans. “Seriously though, don’t you think that this thing is looking a little weird? I think it’s diseased or something.”

“Of course it is. It’s part of you after all.”

“That’s not what I mean. It… doesn’t look like me at all.”

“OF COURSE IT DOESN’T.”

But even through his dignified rebuttal, Shintarou doesn’t miss his colleague’s slight tilt of the head. “It’s going to be so different from me.”

-

The day they implanted the embryo into Satsuki, Chihiro doesn’t come to work. It irks him, he says, to think about how a part of him is being put into a woman he doesn’t quite feel anything for.

“You’ve been informed about this from the very beginning, Chihiro,” Seijuurou reminds him when Chihiro slinks back into the office in the late evening that day, stinking of early alcohol. “And besides, it’s not like you don’t know who Satsuki is.”

“S’not about that, okay,” Chihiro replies, doing his best to laser the fresh piece of document on his table with his squinting eyes.

“Sure it isn’t.”

“It _isn’t_ ,” Chihiro insisted, head snapping up with a cross-eyed look on his face. “How about you try it, then you’ll get what I mean. It’s just weird, okay.”

“How about you try to explain it to me instead?” Seijuurou humours him with a tilted head and patient smile, and blinks when Chihiro stares four extra seconds at him, a constipated look on his face. “Surely it isn’t that difficult?” he comments, picking up his cup of tea and sipping at it.

“It’s…” Chihiro starts and swallows, pausing for contemplation before continuing, “Okay, it’s like thinking about your parents having sex, y’know?”

Chihiro has never seen anyone spit that elegantly before.

-

Satsuki receives a continuous flow of health food from an anonymous source after that, and she smiles each time she finds the supplies at her work desk. It’s not excessively luxurious – just the occasional prenatal supplements, lotion, yoga DVDs – but there’s thoughtfulness captured in the gifts, and she’s impressed by the thoroughness of the gifts.

On other days, it’s food that will sate her cravings: canned oysters on watermelon, blue cheese with durian, strawberries plucked in its first week – food items that are almost impossible. Satsuki takes care to thank everyone in the entire office for it because even though it’s clear who was sending her the gifts, she can understand the embarrassment of being outed publicly better than anyone.

She’s considerate and kind like that.

And then the gifts stop during the fifth month of her pregnancy.

Chihiro hands her the last one – bath herbs, stretch mark oil, and heat patches – at the airport, departing for one of the facility’s side research projects in Bulgaria.

“Take good care of me,” he manages to say before the other boys start ribbing him for his sentimentality.

Satsuki will only have the staff email as contact when she gives birth three months later.

-

“Turns out that the jerk was right after all,” Shintarou comments offhandedly, staring down at Satsuki and the bundle that’s breathing against her. She’s curled an arm protectively around him, cuddling him every now and then when he makes the occasional fuss.

It’s almost disgusting how domestic the whole scene is.

“Midorin!” Satsuki turns maternal wrath on him instantly, playfully frowning, but there’s a measure of warning there too. “That’s just rude! And in front of a baby!”

“Yeah well, maybe you should have started watching your language from early pregnancy itself cuz y’know, prenatal perception and all that shit,” Daiki interrupts, shoving a fawning Ryouta out of the way and poking at a pudgy cheek. He half-screams when the baby suddenly wraps little fingers around his, and then frowns at the grip. “Whaddaya know, he’s pretty damn strong for such a tiny thing.”

“Most babies are stronger than they look,” Seijuurou smiles from the opposite of the room, warm and fond as he watches the new addition to their midst. “Anyway, Shintarou. You were saying about someone being right?”

Shintarou shrugs, non-committal. “Mayuzumi. He said before that the baby will be very different from him.”

“What was he expecting – a carbon copy of him?” Ryouta comments, leaning over Daiki to run fingers through wispy baby hair; except Satsuki hums a quiet sound, catching Seijuurou’s eye and sharing a long look with him.

“Of course not,” Seijuurou comments before anyone else could say anything else, and takes four steps over to pick up the new baby from Kise’s and Daiki’s fingers, “It’s just that that shows we’re really on to something, don’t you think?”

Don’t you think,” he presses a kiss to the top of downy head, gentle and affectionate, and emerges with a jagged grin, sharp enough to slice.

“Little baby Tetsuya.”


End file.
